


A Murder In Hues

by FreezingKaiju



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Noir, Detective Noir, F/F, F/M, GET IT, Jazz Age, Murder Mystery, Mystery, NO BODY, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, also Chrom's family and Sumia and Frederick and Sully are all from Alabama, i named the unnamed village girl Nora Boddy, specifically, unrequited chrobin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 17:59:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12846525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreezingKaiju/pseuds/FreezingKaiju
Summary: Detectives Sully, Olivia, and Miriel head over to Chrom's sockdollager of an engagement party, but the whole night goes wrong when his mysterious fiancee turned up dead.





	1. A Refresher for the Body and Mind

Detective Sully Rhodes sat across the back seat of her Model T as it clattered up the country road. Miriel had won the driving rights this time, and good on her for that. Sully usually liked driving, but this gave her time for reflection.

Her old friend Chrom Grace was finally getting engaged. 

Not to anyone she knew, oddly enough, nor to anyone she would have guessed. None of the old crew. Robin was her biggest bet, of course. They’ve practically never gone a day without making goo-goo eyes at Chrom or generally making it as obvious as possible that they wanted to whoopee him. His butler, Freddy Grey, now that man almost worshipped the ground that Chrom walked on. Hell, that’s his job, but ol’ Fred did it back when they were kids and does it on his breaks. Sully had heard rumors about others, sure. Some were sure he’d take a shine to Sumia Rose, a clumsy girl and longstanding family friend, but Sumia (though she wasn’t vocal about it) was pretty clear in private she only cared for girls. Some folks talked about Maribelle. Hah! That one’s a laugh. Maribelle had had eyes for his sister Lissa since they were all twelve, back when they played together while their dads were away fighting the Great War. Some morons, reubens probably, even thought it’d be her! Sully wished she could find whoever said that, just so she could laugh at ‘em to their face. Chrom was a good friend, sure, but she’d rather kiss an alligator, let alone marry him.

Miriel Indigo’s sharp voice cut through Sully’s inner monologue like a knife through aspic. “We’re almost there. Take care to straighten your outfit, it’s a fine line between proper detective look and ossified drunkard.”

Sully chuckled. Doc Miriel’s always struck her as a bluenose (appropriate in her choice of indigo dress, that) but she’d be lying if there wasn’t some charm in her, buried beneath that thesaurus she had probably swallowed at some point. Good with money, way more generous than she expected, determined almost to a fault, and surprisingly cute when she’s flustered-- all qualities Sully admired in a woman.

Her other partner (in the business sense strictly, unfortunately, but Sully was working on it), the pink-haired Detective Olivia, was nervously fidgeting with her white-and-pink dress in the passenger seat. She still refused to ever take off that hat or that headband, it seemed. Sully understood. It was a comfort thing for her.

She could remember back when they first met and Sully had come to apply for the assistant position. Olivia White! Youngest ace detective in the business! She had expected someone smarmy, cocky, sure of herself! Meeting Olivia for the first time, she almost felt pity for her. The woman was a complete nervous wreck.

But, when they had actually gotten on a case, Sully could see that her reputation was justified. When presented with a case, the blushing cancelled stamp almost transformed into a brilliant, determined, calculating detective with an eye for clues that outmatched Sully’s own.

Hell, she could run the whole damn thing herself-- if she weren't so shy.

It took months for Olivia to warm up to Sully...but Sully was damn happy she bothered to. When Olivia trusted you, well, she made you feel special. Like she thought the whole world was scary, but you? You she trusts to keep her safe. 

Sully would protect her. Her and Miriel too.

Back down home in Alabama, it was a crime for a woman to love another woman.

Sully chuckled grimly and straightened her bow tie.  _ Well, Sheriff, _ she thought,  _ better catch up. I’m due fer four nooses already. _

Four indeed... and if that list she wheedled outta Frederick was final, all four would be there. ‘Specially Sumia. She was somethin’, all right, ‘least to Sully. Most folks probably thought of her somewhere between a clumsy nuisance or just a sweet, bookish girl. To Sully she was a whole lot more. One of her closest pals, the only person who’d listen when she rambled on about horses, and one of the cutest ladies Sully’s ever known to boot. Clumsy, sure, but that wasn’t really an issue.

The final lady in the detective’s little pentagram of hope was Officer Panne Brown, a taguel (you only make the mistake of calling her a bunny  _ once _ ) from the city’s 4th Precinct and an officer she’d known from numerous cases as a trustworthy and stalwart friend. Panne wasn’t a crooked liar like most of the coppers on the force. She’d worked her way up from being a weird newcomer to a respected officer to the law, and got up there on a ladder of improvements-- that, and some very good reflexes. Sully trusted her for backup more than she trusted the emergency number. Proud, straightforward, tall, probably soft, and damn good with animals.

And still, Sully was too damn scared to ask ANY of them out, even on a cheap dinner date or to a movie. That ol’ icy mitt of rejection was too scary for her by half.

“W-we’re almost there!” Olivia exclaimed as the car rattled up the last hill.

Sully leaned out the window. Sure enough, there was a break in the dense trees, and the old familiar side face of the Grace Manor loomed over them like a giant creature, curled up in some gothic chrysalis of peeling wallpaper and tile, waiting perhaps for a chance to break out, or just for death. Still gave Sully the willies just looking at it.

There were quite a few cars parked near it, from a fancy stretched one (that some fuckin’ egg, probably Maribelle, had stretched all across a side of the road) to a shabby badly-patched jalopy to one that looked like a traveling fortune-teller’s booth. In fact, upon a closer look it was one, and Sully recognized it as one she regularly saw around town.

“ ‘ _ Madame Tharja, Mistress of the Mystic Arts!’  _ ” Miriel read as she parked the car next to it. “ ‘ _ Seances! Palm Readings! Tarot Cards! Only 60 cents!’ _ Ah, so we’ll be entertained by an  _ expensive _ fraud this evening.”

Sully and Olivia shared a chuckle at that. 


	2. A Dark and Stormy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miriel mentally consults the finances, Nowi eats candles, Chrom continues to not know how to peel oranges, and someone dies. They're off to a great start.

Miriel was quite proud of herself for remaining so composed, given how much she wanted to scream right now.

The entire sockdollager was surely extravagant. Enough tea and wine to go around, the wine obviously gotten from whatever unscrupulous dealer the ginger-haired ruffian was employed with. Miriel recognized him but couldn’t quite place him, probably a low-level miscreant they had apprehended at some point.

The table was lined with centerpieces of oranges. Chrom had thankfully not made the horrendous misstep of attempting to acquire bananas (banana famine was still occurring, as usual), though she noticed him attempting to consume one like one would eat an apple. His mysterious blond fiancee laughed quite heartily at that, and Chrom blushed. Their law enforcement friend Panne had her plate lined with the oranges, as well as what meager salad Chrom had put out. Miriel recalled her mentioning that she couldn’t digest flesh. Strange for someone to get as chubby as her without eating meat. Different digestive system, she assumed. 

Unfortunately, most everything else was some form of meat. Oysters Rockefeller, pastry pigs, pig sausage, not one but  _ two _ entire turkeys, a pheasant, a large quantity of baked ham, and... was that  _ bear? _ No, it couldn’t be. That was not remotely sanitary... or legal.

_ Hopefully _ Chrom had simply acquired a few thirty-dollar iceboxes. If he had sprung for the Frigidaires, Miriel was ought to go into conniptions.

She sighed and looked over the rest of the table, as if that would relax her any more. The butler continued to hover over the table, taking a few samples of food even though Chrom insisted on offering him full plates. Miriel supposed he was the only living person she knew with more work ethic than her. She must take care to ameliorate that.

Chrom’s sister Lissa and her partner, Maribelle (both decked out in the complete flapper wardrobe), were attempting to correct a small pointy-eared woman’s etiquette.

“Nowi, dear, use your fork, not your hands.”

“Nowi, dear, please don’t crunch on the bones, it irks the other diners.”

“ _ Nowi, please, don’t eat the candles, those aren’t food! _ ”

Miriel had absolutely no clue who Nowi was or why two upstanding women had brought along one who behaved like she had been pulled in off the street. Then again Lissa and Maribelle had never exactly been orthodox.

She was quite thankful that Cordelia had declined the invitation. Cordelia, bisexual disaster that she was,  had always had this desperate, almost obsessive crush on Chrom, and there would have been a significant amount of tension if she had arrived. Miriel quite detested fisticuffs.

And then there was the matter of the ‘entertainment’ for the party. A short, pudgy woman (Middle Eastern, not Romani, as most of the fortune-tellers she’s encountered had been) in an ornately-accessorized black dress with an enumeration of jewelry on her body was sipping some Claret wine and casting a mushy gaze at Robin. This must be Tharja. Miriel allowed herself to let out a soft groan at the charlatanry that was sure to occur with her presence.

Sully and a brown-haired woman Miriel assumed was Sumia were talking to Miriel’s left. She recalled Sully mentioning that Sumia was an old friend of hers. She was wearing a drab but cute brown dress that managed to hug her ample body, though Miriel would hesitate to use any more fitting terms for someone of her size given how healthy and, quite frankly, adorable she looked with her round glasses and cheerful grin. Miriel had heard she was a fellow librarian. That could make for an interesting conversation topic later.

Miriel heard a distant peal of thunder and almost shouted. A storm! Perfect! Exactly one more thing to tear out her hair over! Potential water damages, not to mention damages to cars and to the brand-new electric system!

Olivia let out a tiny exclamation and reached over to clutch Miriel’s hand with hers. Her grip was gentle and soft, like the rest of her. Miriel felt herself blush. Perhaps this storm could result in some very positive consequences as well.

Thunder struck again, much closer this time, and Olivia all but jumped into Miriel’s arms. Miriel could swear she almost felt her spine crack at that, but she could not falter. Olivia trusted her, and she would rather dislocate both her arms than drop her. So Miriel stood there, knees about to collapse and vaguely aware that the glass in her hand was spilling chardonnay on the floor and her dress.

Then something went even further incorrect.

As the storm drew closer, there was a flash of lightning and the lights all went out. Not in the flickering way that the fickle electricity behaved in storms, but more like someone had just thrown a switch.

General sounds of commotion of course ensued. Dishes being thrown, random shouting, wood cracking, Frederick attempting to retain order, and most notably the sharp pain and confusion of someone very soft and heavy falling over onto Miriel, sending her and Olivia both tumbling to the ground.

“I FOUND THE LIGHTSWITCH!” Gaius shouted from the far end of the room. He flicked it and Miriel was able to survey the full amount of chaos.

“Sumia, you’re crushing my ribs,” Miriel muttered. The large woman was laying on both herself and Olivia.

“Nowi, get that candle out of your mouth this instant!” 

“Where’s my hat? Anyone seen a red trilby?”

“Who the fuck spilled this panther piss on me, my eyes are burning!”

Chrom’s voice sounded above the others, though, with his desperate-sounding cry of, “HAS ANYONE SEEN NORA?!?”

Everyone paused and looked around, Sumia hefting herself off of Miriel and quietly apologizing. Miriel cleaned her glasses (which were thankfully undamaged) and surveyed the room. And Nora Boddy, Chrom’s mystery fiancee, was nowhere to be seen.

Chrom’s eyes were wide and he was bent low to the ground, eyes darting around the room. This was the closest Miriel had ever seen him come to an actual panic attack. His pitiful mustache seemed to bristle with terror.

“A-alright!” he stammered, attempting to regain some form of control, “Everyone...split up into groups! I hope she just went off to, um, iron her shoelaces, heh...”

Miriel watched Lissa, Maribelle, and Nowi hurry off to the bathroom wing. She clasped Olivia’s hand and set off at a brisk pace towards the wing of sitting rooms, since that seemed both the least likely place for her to be and the most peaceful place. She could hear Sumia following her.

She dragged Olivia into a side room, intending on plopping down on whatever couch was in there... but she saw Ms. Boddy lying there instead.

“WE FOUND HER!” Olivia shouted, smiling and flipping on the light. “Miss Boddy, you really worried-”

Olivia trailed off into a low gasp as she stared at Chrom’s fiancee. Miriel blinked and looked back at her head.

Half of Nora Boddy’s head was caked with blood and dented with some blunt instrument. There were fragments of bone and, oh gods... 

She could see her brain.

Miriel rushed past Olivia and put her hand on the fiancee’s throat. After a few moments, she pulled back and muttered, “No pulse.” Dead as a doornail, as Sully was wont to say.

“Oh gods...”

Miriel raised her head to the sky, inhaled, and let out a long-pent-up scream, a powerful scream of stress and grief and terror, and above all sheer, sheer panic. It rattled the windows and shutters of the dusty old house, though it was certainly not the first one the house had experienced. Nor would it be the last. This house had seen its fair share of blood spilled in its halls, and it would most definitely see more.


End file.
